performance

Looking back, this particular week has afforded the expenditure of much emotional energy. I suppose there are weeks like that. Not necessarily planned, but how it ends up playing out. Realizations of self. Lessons learned. And relearned. How to be a better mom, friend, coworker. Person in general. Efforts made, even if unnoticed.

A reminder though. I went purposefully last evening to share my writing in an open venue. People tell me time and again, “you must put yourself out there.” Yes, yes, I realize that and trust me, I do and this situation was me doing it. Once more. Yet the time never materialized for a few reasons, mainly the person given charge of the microphone coveted the microphone. Is that the correct word, coveted? I ask myself. I believe so, therefore I’ll leave it.

Anyway. I won’t go into the entirety of the evening but I left slightly disappointed because I wanted to share. To read. To experience and explore. I realize that often the heard voice is the loudest. The most dramatic. The person with the wildest or most outlandish story to tell. Perhaps the most compelling. I listened and felt somewhat uncomfortable as others spoke, in their own version of rhythm and rhyme, of their personal trauma. Had I read the piece I carried in, the audience would have heard from my mind and heart, my struggles with indecision and choice. Of my own attempts to grow. Stronger, healthier, towards a goal even if not quite known. But they would not have been floored by my dramatic tale of horror or fear or hate.

I will say that I do not take offense to others sharing their very real and personal pains, in art form. I believe quite frankly that is the one of the foundational purposes of art. But in my experience yesterday evening I found myself conflicted. I was told, a few hours into the evening, that I might not be given the opportunity to speak into the microphone. I quickly surmised my thoughts and intuition told me I should most likely leave. I read the situation as not what I had expected and my daughter and I left. Yes, I had a person along. A person I love and a person I wanted to be there. Which made the disappointment sting a bit more.

I realize sometimes one doesn’t fully understand what one is getting into. I also realize circumstances dictate many of our experiences. And much of that is beyond our control. I could have chosen to stay. And see if time was made for me and the others who were postponed as well. Events do not always go as planned. But I am choosing to take this experience as a lesson learned. I have concluded that it takes effort to find the most conducive places for my work. I already knew the loudest are most often heard. The most confident and those whose stories bring either tears or laughter or both. My current written work tends to lean toward the melancholy and only alludes. Though I do not feel compelled to change direction.

I have found self expression helpful in that it reveals who I am, even if I am the only person who realizes. I wonder if I will always have the current discord in my mind. Probably because without it, I would completely cease the creative outlet altogether. To be heard is a very basic desire. And after a week of ups and downs and much more emotional energy spent than physical, I longed for the “performance”. I know other opportunities will ensue so I am not forlorn. Actually I am hopeful, as effort tends to lead one in a positive direction.


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